Sort of a Situation
by 49shadesofgrey
Summary: Clint calls Natasha because he has no idea how to deal with a... problem. this is gonna be in like 5 parts maybe i think. Super fluffy. Because most Clintasha fics are sad.
1. Chapter 1

Clint paced around the room, his thoughts racing. "This can't… No. But… How?" He thought out loud. It'd been ten minutes since he had called Natasha to come over, and it would be another five until she rang the buzzer to his apartment.

"You sounded worried. Is something wrong?" She walked in the door without any form of greeting; she didn't need one. She sat on his couch and crossed her legs, looking up at him.

"I kind of have a problem. No, not a problem. It's… um," Clint didn't know how to describe his situation. Natasha rolled her eyes at him.

"Just spit it out, Barton," she said, unfazed by his bullshit. Clint bit his lip and went into another room. He returned with a little boy. Natasha's eyes widened. "And who's this cutie?" She pulled the boy onto her lap. He was the spitting image of Clint. "He's—"

"My son," Clint interrupted. "He's my son." He sat in an armchair and sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "He's two. And I don't know how to be a dad."

"You just found out about him?" Natasha tilted her head to the side, trying to understand the situation as fully as possible. The little boy flashed a smile at her and she involuntarily smiled back. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Frankie." He said with his pacifier in his mouth.

"He's named after me," Clint stated.

"So… Where's the 'Frankie' in 'Clinton'?" Natasha raised an eyebrow.

Clint sighed and slinked down in his chair. "My middle name's Francis. Don't laugh." He looked over at his son and smiled. "Come here, buddy."

Natasha stifled a laugh and allowed the boy to go to Clint. "Francis, huh? That's a new one. Where's his mom? And why'd you just find out about him?"

"Frankie, what happened to your mommy?" Clint directed the question at the little boy, seeing if he could get a few more answers.

"Mommy said I go with Daddy and she goes bye-bye," he said. Clint and Natasha looked at each other for a moment.

"Did she leave a note or anything?" Natasha said softly, "And get that thing out of his mouth. It'll give him buck teeth."

"Yeah," Clint pulled the pacifier out of his son's mouth and reached for the note in his pocket. "It's bed time, buddy." He stood up with Frankie in his arms and his head on Clint's shoulder. "Say night-night." He handed Natasha the note as he walked into the guest bedroom. Clint put the half-sleeping boy into the bed and smiled. "Night, Frankie."

"I love you, Daddy," he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.

"I love you too, Frankie," Clint whispered, smiling as he closed the bedroom door behind him.

"Hey, Frankie," Clint started as the three of them sat around the table eating dinner, "Do you wanna go to school tomorrow?" The two-year-old nodded his head excitedly. "It's settled then," he looked over at Natasha. She glared at him.

"Frankie, go play in your room," she said sweetly. The little boy got up from the table and began to walk out of the room. "What do you say?"

"'Scuse me," Frankie smiled.

"Clint, he won't go to school," Natasha directed her attention back to the table. "He'll throw a fit." She rolled her eyes at him.

"You never know, Nat," he retorted, "He started calling you Mommy, didn't he?" Clint looked down at his food and took another bite. "Plus, he's two. And we can't keep taking days off when Pepper can't watch him." Clint looked up from eating to see the slight worry on Natasha's face. "What's wrong?"

"I just don't think school is a good idea for him right now. He's still getting used to us and everything around here and—"

"Frankie!" Clint yelled and waited for him to come out of his room. "You wanna go to school tomorrow, buddy?" He nodded his head furiously, a smile on his face. "Tell Mommy, then. She doesn't believe me."

"I want to go to school, Mommy!" Frankie climbed onto Natasha's lap. She looked at him and smiled.

"If you want to go to school, you have to go night-night right now," she kissed him on the forehead. He pouted, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"Frankie…" Clint lowered his voice and furrowed his brow. The little boy pulled himself together quickly. "Come on, buddy, let's get your pajamas on." He lifted his son over his shoulder and smiled as the boy wrapped his arms around his neck. "Tell Mommy good night."

"Night-night, Mommy."

Clint tucked the small boy into his bed and had finished telling him his favorite story, where a man from out of this world attacked New York with an army of aliens.

"Daddy, you're coming to school with me, right?" Frankie mumbled. Clint sat on the side of his bed and sighed.

"I can't, buddy, I'm sorry. Daddy and Mommy have to work. Now, go to bed." He gave Frankie a kiss on the forehead and turned on his Iron Man lamp.

~le next day~

Clint and Natasha sat on the couch, waiting for Frankie to come out of his room. Their eyes widened simultaneously when he did.

"Sweetheart, did you pick your own clothes?" Natasha covered her mouth, trying to hide the grin that had crept across her face, while Clint put his head down. Frankie nodded with pride. "Oh, Frankie. Let's go back in your room and see what we can do." She got up and took his hand, leading him into his room.

Five minutes passed and the two returned, both grinning from ear to ear. "Ready to go?" Clint asked as he stood up. He grabbed the car keys and closed the apartment door behind them. Natasha put Frankie into his car seat before getting into the car herself, and they drove off.

They pulled up to the daycare center and Clint looked at Natasha. "Are you going in? Or should I?"

"Maybe you should go," she shrugged, "He's more used to you." Clint agreed and got Frankie out of his car seat.

"You ready, buddy?" Clint asked as they walked up to the door. Frankie smiled and nodded.

"I'm ready, Daddy."


	2. Chapter 2

Frankie held onto his father's hand tightly as they walked into the daycare. They were greeted by a small secretary in the front office.

"Hi," Clint stuck out his free hand and offered it to her, "I'm Clint Barton. I called a while ago about my son. Frankie, say hi." Frankie's finger was in his mouth, his lip quivering and he whimpered, threatening to cry. Clint gave the woman a smile and bent down to Frankie. "What's wrong, buddy? I thought you wanted to come to school today."

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "I want you to come, Daddy." Tears began to form at in the little boy's eyes and Clint sighed.

"I told you, Mommy and I have to go to work—" Frankie immediately let the tears fall from his eyes. His face turned red and he sat on the ground. "Frankie, stop. C'mon, bud, stand up." Clint pulled the little boy up and got down on his knees so he was eye level with his son. "I'll come inside with you, okay? Stop crying. You have to be a big boy." Frankie nodded and grabbed on to his father's neck.

"Okay," Clint turned back to the secretary, "Like I was saying, this is Frankie." Frankie turned his head and waved. The secretary indicated they follow her down the hall, to his classroom. Frankie's eyes lit up when he saw everything going on. Clint put him down and took his hand. "Hey, look, bud. Someone else likes Iron Man, too." Frankie spotted the little boy wearing an Iron Man shirt, let go of Clint's hand, and ran over to his potential friend. Clint laughed and faced his teacher, "I think he'll be just fine."

"I agree. That's Frankie, right?" She smiled.

Clint nodded, "That's him. And I'm Clint," he stuck out his hand. He went over to the table where Frankie was playing with his new friend. "I'm leaving now, buddy." He put his hand on the boy's head and smiled. "You're gonna be a good boy, right?" The little boy nodded and looked up at his father and hugged him.

"Are you coming back?"

Clint nodded, "Of course, buddy. I'll see you later." He began to walk out of the room, while Frankie trailed along, and was stopped by an older boy, around five.

"Are you Hawkeye?" He asked. Clint laughed and shook his head. Behind him, he heard Frankie.

"Who's Hawkeye?" Clint sighed and pushed his son back towards his friend. He got out to the car without any questions and got into the driver's seat.

"How'd it go?" Natasha looked over at him.

Clint took a breath. "Um, it was okay. He cried a little in the beginning. But, he found another kid who liked Iron Man, too…"

She smiled, then frowned. "What, Clint?"

"Then he asked about Hawkeye."

Natasha's eyes widened. "But… How?" Clint sighed and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Some kid asked, and he overheard. So, then, he asked." Clint shrugged.

"Well, he's little. He'll forget about it by the end of the day," Natasha reassured him. She put her hand on his and smiled. Clint nodded and continued driving until they got to his apartment.

They had taken the day off, so they could be there for Frankie when the day was done. "Now what?" Clint opened the door to the apartment and headed over to the couch as Natasha followed behind.

"I don't know… food sounds good to me." She started to the kitchen when Clint sprang up in front of her. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. "What?"

"You. Kitchen. Bad idea." She rolled her eyes at his lack of trust in her culinary skills. "You suck at cooking. You can barely make cereal," his face softened as he laughed. He turned her around and pushed her towards the couch.


End file.
